


Sweet Kiwi

by lynseas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Apparently Eren is a Tony Stark Kind of Genius, Awkward, Cuties, First Meetings, Flirting, Genius!Eren, Implied Levi/Erwin Smith, Levi Accidently Punches Eren, M/M, Public Sex, Single Levi, Stranger Sex, These two dorks though seriously, Touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-16 09:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3483482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynseas/pseuds/lynseas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You laughed in a restaurant but you have an ugly laugh and I thought you were choking, so I spent the last three minutes awkwardly humping you while performing the Heimlich maneuver” AU PROMPT</p><p>Apparently Levi has an ugly laugh. He'll kick Hange's ass for that later. </p><p>Fluff, awkwardness, some more awkwardness, and bathroom sex ensues. Which is always fun, right?</p><p>[x]</p><p>Going from a one shot to a fic is hard to do. A few more details shouldn't hurt, yeah?</p><p>Eren Jaeger is the head of Jaeger Industries, a multi billion dollar company that specializes in government weapons manufacturing and aide. Levi Ackerman is a college Lit and creative writing teacher who lives with his best friend Hange and pug Shiro. Also? He is a famous author. A couple years ago, these two decided to go at it in a fancy restaurant bathroom when one was only the heir to his father's fortune and the other coming off a bad breakup and entering Sina University as a temp (and trying pretty damn hard to get his life back together). </p><p>Needless to say, one night at a book signing and a serendipity class enrollment later, it's pretty obvious neither Levi or Eren thought to ever forget about each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteriouslySurreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteriouslySurreal/gifts).



> An AU prompt that I cannot now find the link to add to my notes. Asked by my beautiful friend Cailyn (MysteriouslySurreal, read her stuff, she's funny) to give this a shot and it took me a few days, but I figured something out. Cliche? Maybe. A bit. Cute? I think so. 
> 
> I love Levi and Hange as best friends, I just do. That's a beautiful relationship people should take advantage of more. Let me know what you think! I love to hear from you guys. 
> 
> Oh and if you give any hot damn, I am ackerbooty on Tumblr. Drop by. Say hello. Or don't? 
> 
> The title is a slight reference to the song "Kiwi" by Maroon 5, particularly these lyrics: 
> 
> But it’s so strange, it’s something new  
> Amazing feelings that I have for you  
> I close my eyes when I’m alone  
> Wonder what it’d be like to make you moan
> 
> I wanna give you something better  
> Than anything you’ve ever had  
> A stronger and a faster lover  
> The world, it disappears so fast  
> Sweet kiwi  
> Your juices dripping down my chin  
> So please, let me  
> Don’t stop it before it begins

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened. Other than the fact that it was completely, utterly, _totally_ fucking ridiculous, he’d somehow managed to keep his mouth shut for the better half of a minute before trying to get the little shit to stop rutting him from behind. Senses returned from the whirlwind of absolute-fucking-confusion and his vision was still bobbing relentlessly up and down; but with his newfound grip on reality, he figured it was the time to speak up.

“You know, if all you wanted to do was take me from behind you could have just said ‘please’.” His eyes tried to avoid the woman laughing so hard it was racking her entire body, slapping the table and shaking the whole building with her squeaks.

“Wait, you’re ok!?” The kid yelped, hardly acting like he’d heard anything that came from his mouth, at the very least, the unpleasant movement stopped. The room still in a bit of a blur, Levi was at least glad he was getting somewhere with the nimrod; however, sizeable hands continued clutching tightly together at the front of Levi’s chest, arms frantically squeezing his upper body.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I just—oh wow, this is—” The stranger backed away, letting go of Levi as suddenly as he had jerked him up from his seat.  
  
“Oh, no, don’t mind me, please!” Levi threw his hands up in the air, still facing away from his assailant, easily able to play up and express his irritation. Still receiving fuck all as to who would interrupt the dinner date he was on, he almost wished he hadn’t turned around— _almost_ —because, damn it all to Hell if the bastard wasn’t gorgeous. 

He couldn’t be sure if the boy saw the way his body paused at just the sight of him; how Levi’s shoulders had tensed and his spine curved at realizing that broad chest and hard stomach had only just been pressed up against his back. A beautiful, honey-golden hue colored his skin, red only just beginning to creep up his neck in humiliation; his hair somehow an endearing tangle of long, chestnut brown hair falling into his eyes, hiding the emotion that lay there.

“Good God, Eren. What are you thinking?”

Levi inhaled a deep breath, wanting to kick himself at the awful cliché of noticing that—up until he’d been snapped back into reality by a paternal reprimand—he’d completely forgotten the concept of oxygen. Blinking, he looked in the direction the voice had come from, eyes landing on an older man with circular-rimmed glasses. He sat in the middle of a large V.I.P. six-man booth, four people surrounding both his sides and all blatantly staring.

Levi cleared his throat, getting a grip on himself and digging deep within to trudge up that A-plus personality he’s always hearing such lovely things about.

“Yeah, _Eren_ ,” Levi teased, taking a step closer if not to just get a better look at him. “Your son?” He asked the same man who’d just scolded the kid for his behavior.

The man’s face too easily expressed the horror of a father experiencing both first and second hand embarrassment due to the actions of their child. “Yes he is,” he nodded, looking to the woman beside him and saying something Levi couldn’t make out. Well, at least the man didn’t hesitate to claim him.  
  
“Levi!” 

He quickly glanced back at the woman calling his name, “Be there in a second Zoe.”

She still sat at their table, a large smile still on her face at the spectacle that had just taken place. Not saying much for this piss poor situation this was turning out to be. Levi felt how his dress shirt was wrinkled, hair disheveled, a fact mirrored on the young man standing opposite him.

“What was that all about?” Levi stuck his thumb back, pointing towards his table and where the scene this Eren had elicited between the two of them had taken place; already it was a strange memory, his past. One he was more than certain Hange would utilize at his every expense; whether it be an office party or a holiday get together, this weird ass happenstance would always be something she would dispel from her arsenal in attempt to elate in laughter  
  
“I, uh,” he groaned, quickly covering his face in attempt to hide the blush Levi already knew was there. 

“Oh, please, don’t get all shy on me now, kid. You were practically putting on a show for the rest of the restaurant. I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up in the softcore category on Pornhub.” 

Levi didn’t much care what his father made of that. He wasn’t here to impress them, nor did it reflect his actual preferences when it came to pornography, but the way the man slapped his hand to his face at the comment towards his son, the deepest, most immature parts of Levi gave a two thumbs up. 

“Dear, I think you should apologize to this man.”  
  
“Mom,” he grumbled, still doing well to cover his face.  
  
“Don’t you ‘mom’ me, Eren Jaeger, you apologize to him right. _now_.”  
  
The boy sighed, peeking between his fingers to gauge Levi’s mood. It looked as if the action were painful when he finally pulled his hands away from his face, running them through his bangs to uncover his eyes. 

“Wow,” Levi gaped, not even caring that he was obviously incapable of keeping such secretive proclamations on the silent side of his lips. _There was nothing quite like those_ , Levi surmised, trying to pick out and decipher every single color that shined within the dominant green that resided within the stranger’s irises.

God, he felt fucking ridiculous. Here he was, a grown ass man, standing in the middle of one of the most awkward situations he’d easily ever landed himself in, and he was acting like a 16-year-old hoping to get asked out to the prom.

Needless to say, Levi wanted to stuff a fist in his mouth in order to keep from saying anything else he deemed particularly unwelcome, feeling his own brand of embarrassment as he saw the boy recognize the desire daubed all over his face.  
  
_Shit._  
  
“It’s …” He moved to loosen the tie around his neck, a stammer clicking his tongue and trailing his words. “I’m sorry.”  
  
Levi felt his hands in his pockets, fingers scratching the fabric in an almost compulsory manner. The kid looked like something was still bothering him, so he waited a little while longer before returning to his table  
  
“Were,” he began, nervous to say anything more. “You weren’t choking?”  
  
“Choking?” Levi furrowed his brow, obviously puzzled over the question until— “Wait.” Levi caught himself looking at his chair, the back of it lying on the floor from where he’d been pulled up by Eren and he’d been shook vigorously up and down from behind.

None of it had really made any kind of sense until the kid spouted off that question, an inexplicable kind of helpless degradation marring everything from the look on his face to how he played with the pointed end of his striped grey and navy blue tie. “You little shit, you thought I was choking?”

“I just heard this sound coming from you is all!” He stepped forward, hands held out in a sort of pleading motion that screamed for Levi to understand him. “I—I thought you were fucking dying ok? But when you started talking and you and we and I—” He huffed, running his hand through his hair again and pulling it in frustration. For some reason, he took that moment and shifted closer to Levi, leaning forward and speaking in a small voice, one low enough that only the two of them could hear. “Shit, I am so sorry but you have the most God-awful ugly laugh. I thought your airwave was choked off by a log or a raccoon or or—”

Levi’s jaw tightened, thinking back to the story Zoe had told him right before he’d been dry humped for the better part of an entire minute. He felt an unbidden rise of self-consciousness and anger, never having heard or been told such a thing about himself before.

“Why you little fucknut.” He felt his nails biting into the flesh of his palm, the snarl of his nose and growl in his voice making the idiot in front of him back up. He saw the way this kid let his emotions run wild and unchecked and Levi didn’t like it, it left him uncomfortable and waiting for the mess that followed. “Didn’t your mother ever teach a lesson in manners?”

His voice was as small an undertone as Eren’s had been, but paired with a cutting lilt and harsh, cold cadence it did well in showing an entirely new side of Levi altogether.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like th—”  
  
“Don’t.” And just like that, Levi’s voice was back to normal, indifferent. _Disappointed_. “Apology accepted. But next time,” his volume had returned, easily heard by Eren’s parents, “Be a little bit more gentle on the ribs, shall we?”

As little as he would admit it, Levi knew how to make certain people feel at ease. Taking a rather ridiculous situation and playing it off with cheesy humor got a few laughs and made people un-tense at the prospect of a lawsuit.

“Uh, yeah, of course.”

“Thank you, sir.” The mother—a beautiful woman whose son was the spitting image of her—said kindly to Levi, a look on her face telling him she was grateful in him having not made a larger scene.  
  
He returned a thoughtful smile, knowing she saw how it didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“No worries, ma’am.”

From there, Levi said his goodbyes; relieved to part with the family he’d become too quickly familiar with. He hoped the rest of his night would be uneventful. Boring. Teeth-pullingly boring. 

 

[X]

  
“Zo,” he wished to sound threatening. As was the case with his best friend, however, she was in no way, nor had she ever been, intimidated by him.  
  
In fact, he was sure she only found him amusing.  
  
“I’m sorry,” she hid her laughter behind a large cloth napkin, trying her best to muffle her snickers. “I can’t help it!” Wiping away at the tears in her eyes, she settled down enough to address Levi in a semi-intelligible manner. He had no idea how this woman had three PhDs. “Do you know who that was?”

 

He rolled his eyes, wishing they weren’t anywhere near this conversational piece. “Am I supposed to?”

  
She reached across their small table and playfully shoved his shoulder, an exceptionally communicated gasp telling Levi her disbelief.  
  
“That’s Grisha Jaeger.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”  
  
“You are insufferable you know that? _Jaeger_. As in Jaeger Industries—he’s a world renown weapons manufacturer.”

Hange huffed at the unimpressed look Levi answered her with, which actually made him chuckle a bit. Though, he felt his amusement cut short, soon remembering what the boy had said about his laugh being ugly, so much so he’d thought he was choking.  
  
“And his son is a certified genius.”  
  
“That ass hat?” He chanced a peek back at booth—seeing the brunette balancing a fork on his nose much to his father’s chagrin and his mother’s amusement—shaking his head so vigourously he was pretty fucking sure it was going to pop off.  
  
“Yes,” she smiled.  
  
“The one who just sexually assaulted me in the middle of a restaurant whose cheapest plate is a hundred bucks?”  
  
“I actually think he was performing the Heimlich maneuver on you, my dear.”  
  
“Nah, uh-uh, no way.” He shook a pointed finger at her, thinking that somehow expressed his sentiment further, “I don’t believe one fucking word that is coming out of your mouth right now.”  
  
“I swear it! He was on last years November cover of Forbes, right before his father’s big exhibition because he was debuting some of his own work and he blew people away. It was insane. Erwin was there, remember?”  
  
Levi did not.  
  
“I’m actually surprised Erwin hasn’t talked your ear off about that.”  
  
Levi shrugged, not wanting to delve any further into the route that conversation could take.  
  
“Anyway,” she took the hint, “He’s being featured in the Times—the fucking Times, Levi—and I bet that’s why they’re here. Celebrating. The issue comes out tomorrow. Seriously, the kid is like a real-life Tony Stark. It’s crazy.”

Levi watched as she took the check from the waiter, trying to protest as she lifted it away from his reach. He bitched at her, hoping it would quell the agonizing need he felt to look at the apparently brilliant—brilliant and beautiful—boy who sat behind him. It didn’t.  
  
“Zoe, you do realize that we are also here celebrating?”  
  
“Mhhhmmmm.”  
  
“Celebrating you and I moving to a teacher’s salary.”  
  
That made Levi wonder why the two of them were even in this place.  
  
“Erwin isn’t here to pay for all of this.”  
  
“Such a Gloomy Gus,” she loudly joked, happiness easily spotted in her words. “What’s next? Do I need to reach across this table and boop your nose to try and get my wittle Levi to smile?”

That got her a good kick in the shin.  
  
At this point, her yelp didn’t make the two of them stick out any more or less than they already had. Eren Jaeger had made sure of that, their forward personalities taking care of the rest.  
  
“Besides,” she wiggled her eyebrows, showing Levi a black American Express card. “He’s here in spirit.”

“Oh my God, he really couldn’t be that stupid, right?”  
  
“He left you didn’t he?”

Levi wanted to shrink at that very open comment from her, wanted to smack her for being so blatant—but he did no such thing. Her humor, her personality, her lack of boundaries, and her knack of knowing when someone either needed a swift kick in the ass or a slow coaxing out of the gutter were only a few of the reasons why and how he’d come to love the woman.

“Well, in that case."

They sat around for maybe another 45 minutes after they were finished with their meal. First, they ordered the most expensive dessert, which just so happened to be the most disgusting (resulting in receiving another check); then they talked about leaving and Hange declined, ordering a slushy grape-looking beverage that also just so happened to have alcohol in it; this led to them opening up a bar tab, which, quite possibly, without a doubt, was a horribly fucking atrocious idea.

“Shitfuck,” Levi took another drink out of his glass of brandy. “I’ve got work tomorrow.”  
  
“Call in sick.”  
  
“Master plan, Hang. How the fuck did you not die in the cradle?" 

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Jesus.” His glass was empty, ice clinking as he sat it back down on the table. “How much d’you reckon those four drinks cost me?”

“How much did they cost _Erwin,_ ” she corrected. “In any event, I think you’ve had more than four.”  
  
“We’re going to have to call a taxi.” The prospect of that made him sigh in severe regret. “You paying for that as well?”

Again with those wiggling eyebrows, she tapped enthusiastically on the card sitting on the table, “Might as well. When in Rome and all that.”  
  
Levi tiredly rubbed his eyes, looking at his watch in the process. It was almost 9 o’clock.  
  
“Ah, hell,” he mumbled, watching out of his peripherals as Hange laid her head on the table. “Hey Zo, I’m going to take a piss, ‘kay?”  
  
He felt pretty positive that her grunt into the table was an acknowledgement of some kind. Thirty-year-old children, at your service. 

Levi quickly realized that his friend was most likely correct in her own drunken assessment that he may have had more than four drinks. In any case, no matter the number, it had been too many. He’d been right in suggesting a taxi because there was no way he’d be able to drive either of them home; and if he couldn’t drive, Hange would be fortunate if she could walk. The two of them would be lucky if, when they came back tomorrow, their SUV hadn’t been towed.  
  
“What,” he splashed water in face, “the fuck,” more water, “was I,” anything to sober up, “thinking?” The question was in reference to many things in his life right now. Moving back in with Hange; taking a job at the university; being sloshed out of his mind; and single after a five year relationship. Had the two really been celebrating or mourning their life choices?

“Hey, are you ok?”

“Motherfuc—” Call it drunken antics, in the end it could all be chalked up to bullshit, but Levi actually squawked in alarm, his fist lashing out and connecting with the nose of a male who’d snuck up on him. 

“Oh, shit!” Large, tan hands fled to cover a now bloodied nose, pain and a very different kind of surprise than Levi’s distorting his features.  
  
“What the hell?” Levi’s eyes widened, his folly realized too late. “Eren?”

“Dude, what the fuck? What the actual fuck!?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, doing little to halt the blood now freely flowing out of his nostrils.  
  
“Oh wow.” Levi’s mouth hung open, watching a moment too long as the kid’s suit jacket was ruined before kicking his ass into gear. “Hold on.”  
  
Levi quickly pivoted on his toe, reaching towards the paper towel holder, ripping up as many of the restaurant’s ridiculously decorated tissues from their basket, a wad found in each hand as he turned back around.  
  
He watched Eren look back and forth at each collection of paper, index finger and thumb still squeezing the bridge of his nose.  
  
“Ok,” Levi opened a stall door before continuing, waving him inside. “Sit.”  
  
Eren listened, small whines and groans escaping his lips as he plopped down on the toilet seat.  
  
“Stop your grumbling,” Levi playfully scolded, hoping his tone of voice was enough for Eren to recognize, enough to calm him down. “There isn’t much I can do about your suit.” Levi rested his hand on Eren’s forearm, a light touch that told him to let go of his nose. “But,” he stopped, waiting to see if there would be any more blood. Somehow, amidst his foolishness, Levi had managed to wet some of the paper towels in his possession. Carefully, he began dabbing at the trailing streaks of red that started at his nostrils and fled all the way down his chin and throat.  
  
“So I guess this makes us even, huh?”

Levi kept quiet on that account, wiping at the dried blood on his throat as the kid carried on.

“I’m sorry about earlier.”

Eren tried breathing through his nose, visibly wincing at the effort as he tried to fight through the newfound snot and distention. His voice was coming out nasally, the swelling from the injury working quickly to affect his speech; Levi saw the deep purple already tinting his eyelids and the puffiness of his periorbital skin bulging.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.” Levi mumbled, feeling more than sorry himself at what he’d done to him. And maybe, just maybe, he was taking a bit too long—taking his sweet ass time—in helping so as to be able to talk to the young stranger a little bit longer. It seemed so preposterous, everything Hange had told him about the boy. Looking at him now, watching him earlier, hearing how he couldn’t speak past his tongue tying himself in knots … he was young, so young. Vibrant. It was both surprising and unsurprising to Levi that he could be incredibly luminous and intelligent.

“So is that woman out there your wife?”

Until he said things like that. Then, everything even somewhat regarding intellect was thrown out the window.  
  
In that moment, Levi didn’t care that this was the same brat who had earlier told him he had an ugly laugh, the thought of being married to Zoe too much for him to suffer in silent mirth.  
  
“No, God no.” He spoke in between quieter chuckles, his laughter dying down. “She’s just a friend,” he answered. “No,” He shook his head, correcting himself, “My _best_ friend.”

Despite what he’d said, Levi soon focused on cleaning up what he could from the suit, hearing nothing in way of protest from Eren.  
  
“I’m sorry.” He said it again, his voice unsure of itself, too quiet.  
  
Levi looked up from the ruined lapel, an almost habitual irritation imposing his reaction as he heard yet another apology from him.  
  
“For what?” He huffed, finding himself looking from one eye to the next, lost and drowning in that indefinable turquoise.  
  
“I was wrong,” Eren whispered. “You have a beautiful laugh. You’re beautiful when you laugh.”

Levi felt it then, felt how his eyes widened at the stutter and constriction within his chest, how his breathing quickened and his blood suddenly boiled. How absolutely vulnerable he’d suddenly become. The way he stared at Levi, boring into him with what looked like admiration and a perplexity that, for some reason, made it seem as if he’d taken on every part of him. The darkest recesses of Levi’s entire being conquered; the firmament of his dreams and deepest passions understood.

But he didn’t know the person sitting in front of him, had never met him before tonight.

Levi stayed still, not really trusting that he could put one foot in front of the other. He felt an explosive, unfamiliar sort of warmth wrap itself around his wrist, the abundance of tissue falling from his grasp as the stranger—Eren—brought his palm flat against Levi’s own, rubbing it slowly up and down, warming it up.  
  
Neither of them broke from each others gaze, the world outside calm, muted as Eren interlaced his fingers with Levi’s, pressing his lips against the pale skin of each of his knuckles and finally resting into the man’s touch. 

Even when the bathroom door opened, a man’s voice asking in to see if Eren had “fallen in”, they stayed locked on each other.  
  
“I’ll be right out Armin.” He spoke each word against Levi’s hand, his teeth grazing the skin, lips making Levi visibly shudder at the feel. Eren stood, speaking again only when he heard the click of the bathroom door. "I saw the way you looked at me earlier." He hesitated a moment, gaining the courage before he said anything more. "What's your name?"

He didn’t even think about it, “Levi.”

Though Levi had only witnessed one feeling from Eren—embarrassment—it was easy to tell how profoundly he felt every excitement, arousal, let down, humiliation—he was, without a doubt, a person at the mercy of his emotions. Earlier, it had served only to piss Levi off, the chaos of such unchecked, _wild_ fervor was dangerous. Levi saw it inside this young man; something he knew that had used to burn so brightly within him and it was fucking thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

“I want to see you again, Levi.”

“I …” Levi thought about it, the rational pull to be a responsible goddamn adult stronger than he’d felt in awhile. 

“What?”

Levi looked at Eren then, really looked, suddenly attuned to just how young he must have been and how old _he_ was. He remembered Zoe rattling on about him being a genius and the Times and he decided he’d give himself one thing, but nothing more.  
  
He acted, moving forward with little thought, lips pressed against Eren’s as he let out a surprised whimper of pain from their noses brushing against one another. Levi stopped, worried he may have hurt him.

“No, don’t stop.” Eren spoke into his lips, taking control as he backed Levi against the stall door (When had either of them closed it?) and made him finish what he started.  
  
Levi dropped the other handful of tissues, unable to care less about the mess as he reached desperately to hold the sides of his face, wanting to cup his cheeks and soak in the warmness he felt radiate from his entire body. Honestly, the man had never known just how cold he was until he felt the conflagration that was Eren’s body heat. Chaste, hard, quick kisses to start, ones that first felt Levi’s lips and eventually began exploring his reddening cheeks, jawline and neck; hands that began with pulling his dark, onyx colored hair just to hear the hiss of pleasure flood from between his teeth, and then travel all over his arms, chest, and abdomen, finding the places that tickled and impressed.  
  
Levi pulled away first, a smile he didn’t realize he could make overcoming him as he heard Eren gasp for air. He couldn’t help it, the way his index and middle finger lightly brushed his lips, or how he wanted to feather kisses up and down his swollen face.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Levi was the one to speak it now, the melancholy sharp and foreign within him for hurting the lovely individual before him.

He couldn’t keep from that mouth, fingers decidedly tracing its outline, wanting to memorize every line, chap, and imperfection. He sucked in a deep breath, watching and feeling as Eren took them in his mouth, swirling and lapping his tongue against the sensitive pad of Levi’s fingers. For that he let Eren taste the moan he’d provoked, meeting no resistance when his tongue licked his lips, asking for entrance. 

They went on like that, minutes stretching on with no interruption, uncaring of the door swinging open and then shutting closed as people walked in and out. They didn’t quiet for them, learning to breathe through their noses (though Eren found this to be exceptionally more difficult) so they never broke from each other, all tongue and wandering hands.  
  
Levi pushed him back onto the seat of the toilet, straddling him, legs on either side of his hips, feet touching the ground. He finds himself pushing back his jacket, thumbs rubbing circles through the fabric of his clothes, kneading both his nipples, anything to turn him on. Eren held his chin, opening Levi’s mouth once again; but this time, they forewent kissing, instead they licked, tongues twisting and twirling around each other as they slicked their mouths with saliva and ground into each others groins the hotter and hotter each became.  
  
“Good fuc—” Levi felt himself become more aggressive, the friction begging him to go harder, faster, longer. His pants pockets began to jingle, his phone telling him someone was calling him. The ringtone Hange’s. How long had he been in here?

They both didn’t care enough in any case, ignoring it in recompense for each other; choosing to find a rhythm that satisfied their desire.  
  
“Like that,” Eren gasped, “More, more—ah, ha—”  
  
Levi felt it too, the way his length rolled against his, his cockhead twitching at Eren’s shameless pleads. So he rocked faster, wishing he were snapping the sharp edges of his hips into the flesh of his ass, disappointed that this would have to do instead.  
  
Eren couldn’t help it, lolling his head back as he felt the familiar rise of heat coil in his belly, feeling his balls ache at their newfound weight. Momentarily, though, he was pulled away from his escasty, Levi gripping his chin and pulling him for a kiss, stalling all his movements.  
  
“Please,” he admitted, his voice hoarse, dark, swallowing and unable to finish that particular line of thought. He began anew, “Don’t you dare look away from me, Eren. I want to see how this pretty face comes.”  
  
Eren eagerly nodded, answering the slow roll of Levi’s hips as he began rocking against him once again.

Levi loved the feel of Eren’s hands on his waist, adored the feeling of how he began to fumble with the buttons of his broadcloth dress shirt. Breaking away from their gaze, he wanted to stain him with kisses, biting down on his neck, rewarding him with an affectionate lick over the teeth marks, sucking until it bruised for the hands that began to wander, settling on the dimples of his low back. Urging, no, demanding Levi loose himself, to go crazy.

Really, it was Eren’s face that did it for him, the thing that made Levi come in his pants for the first time since he was probably fif-fucking-teen. Eren didn’t close his eyes, he _obeyed_ Levi’s command to never look away, even though Levi had broken it himself to mark the brunette. His mouth dropped open, a rough sound scratching the back of his throat that was loud and unrestrained; his eyes sparkled before glazing over as he was somehow able to press Levi even closer, bucking up and riding his crotch from beneath. 

And he said his name, “ _Levi_.”

Over and over again, like it was something akin to rapture, a prayer, a goddamn soliloquy.

“ _Levi_ ,” he said. _“Levi_ , _Levi_ , _Levi_ , _Levi_!”

  
[x]

“That was by far the longest shit you’ve ever taken!” Hange yelled in the back of the cab, poking Levi in fake-admonishment. “And in a public restroom no less. Was that the exercise your therapist gave you? ‘Now Levi, a good first step in overcoming your anxiety is to take a dump in a public place’—I would sure enjoy reading her How To Guide: OCD edition if she’s ever around.” 

“When duty calls,” he mumbled, resting his head on her shoulder, feeling very tired and ignoring the bullshit. “I’m tired,” he spoke the thought a loud, but didn’t mention that somewhere inside him, he was also a little bit fucking proud of himself.

“Mhm, me too.” His friend yawned, resting her head on top of his and taking his hand in hers. “I had a good time tonight.”  
  
Levi smiled, “Me too.”  
  
“So, you get him in the bathroom?”

“I did,” he answered, not missing a beat because there was no need to.

“Want me to start the shower for you when we get home?”

Levi thought about it, a warm, gooey feeling of thankfulness spreading within him that he had someone who knew his every squick, quirk, and compulsion; but he also noticed another thing, that he didn’t want her to. He wanted to feel where Eren’s hands had scratched at his front and back, digging his nails in as to mark Levi as his for one night. He wanted to smell like the sweat and sex of their encounter. He wanted to smell like Eren. 

He squeezed her hand tight, glad for the comfort.

“I think I’m ok tonight.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOWWWZA ... you guys are amazing. Um, just, thank you? Yeah, yeah that's right: THANK YOU SO MUCH. The first chapter got so much support from all of you and that meant so much. I didn't expect it and I talked with my sassy pickle pants Cailyn and we decided more is better. And when it comes to me, these things take a life of their own. I'm not sure how long it will be ... it doesn't feel like a beast of a work, but I like the possibilities.
> 
> I am ackerbooty on tumblr. 
> 
> I love hearing from you. I love it all. Don't be shy. I tried to update with a second chapter quickly and there isn't a heck of a lot happening other than me trying to establish some serious levihan brotp'ing and just Levi's character. We'll get more of that later, I'm sure. As my sassy heichou pickle Cailyn says, I can get rather dark.
> 
> SO until next time (which I hope is soon) enjoy!

**3 Years Later**  
  


“Zoe!” Levi was going to kill her. He was. He believed. Every bone in his body said he would. “Come on and make up your damn mind! We’re going to be late.”  
  
“Ok, ok!” She yelled back, a loud bang following her response. “Calm your horses.”

He was surprised ‘tits’ wasn’t at the end of that sentence instead of ‘horses’, a questioning look given to the woman who stumbled out of her room with a disheveled pencil skirt, one shoe, and half her bra on.  
  
She never denied being a mess.

“Are you trying to curb your potty mouth for tonight? Or do you want me to not look at your chest?”

“I have a nice pair of tits and you know it.” There it was. “Go ahead. Look.” She shrugged, a somehow charming stance of indifference crossing her face.

“So that’s a no to staving off swear words?”  
  
“Shut up and hook me up, will ya’?”  
  
“I swear, Zo. I’m better at this than you are.”

“Bras are the woe of woman, Levi. The absolute woe.”

He smiled, affectionately so, untwisting her bra and helping her bring her arm through the strap. After that small catastrophe was averted, he had to rip away a yellow blouse she was about to pull over her head.  
  
“No,” Levi insisted, throwing the item of clothing on their couch. “You always wear yellow.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with that!” Hange protested, looking like she wanted to pounce on the damn turtleneck.

“You would look beautiful in this.” It was then that he pulled out a fancifully wrapped box—seemingly from nowhere—from a too-expensive store, looking at the stove clock he’d set thirty minutes fast the day before he saw they had more than enough time for this. Sure, Hange had a phone, but that didn’t mean shit when it came to actually looking at it. They both relied mercilessly on that damn thing to get them around, too lazy to pull their cell out of their pocket or get a damn watch. Even then he wasn’t positive either of them would have the strength to lift their arm to stare at their wrist. Easier to just turn your head.

“Levi,” she gasped, a wonderful sound of exasperated, hushed surprise leaving her.

He’d walked around the city all day window shopping, just fucking _looking_ for something to get her. It could have been anything, she would have been happy with it no more or no less, but the moment he saw the dress, he only had eyes for her in it.

“This is Le Chateau?”  
  
“That’s what the box says.” He had no idea. No fucking clue.

“Oh, wow.” She then made it her duty to strip herself of that one heel and her skirt, right there in their living room, asking Levi for assistance once again at helping her step in and zip up the cabernet double weave garment.

Hange was smart, could outdrink Levi any day, and had the script of _Super Troopers_ logged down to the comma; but she also had an arsenal of makeup and face care products, was always buying new colors of nail polish (and asking Levi to paint her toe nails), and had a passionate love affair with Hello Kitty. She was a self-proclaimed “girly-girl”. 

And, son of a bitch if she wasn’t gorgeous. It didn’t matter if she was wearing a pair of glasses so big it looked like she had strapped a pair of goggles to her skull, or if she let her hair fall down from her ponytail, dabbing on some lipstick for one of the many faculty dinner parties the two of them and been sucked into the past few years.

“Turn around.”

She did.

“Levi!” She smiled, hands trying to suppress her excitement. “But this is your night.”

Levi found himself shaking his head, easily disagreeing with her, “This night? This night would not have come if it weren’t for you. Zo,” he tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear, trying to see more of her face. “My beautiful Zoe.” He gently grabbed her hands, bringing them to his lips to give them a meaningful kiss. “How long have we known each other?”

“Kindergarten,” she said shyly, cheeks blushing and undoubtedly still smiling.  
  
“Mhm,” he agreed. “You’ve been there through it all. God, for some reason I think you were the person that introduced me to the wonders of gay porn.”

That made her laugh, a nice characteristic boom that Levi felt to his very core.  
  
“You have never failed me. You have always loved me. Even when I didn’t deserve it, even when I pushed you away you would wait for me to come back.”  
  
“No you—”  
  
“Shhh …” He shushed her, a warm, soft coax asking to let him finish. “From the beginning you were there. Resolute. You were the one who stayed with me in the hospital after I wrapped my car around a pole in high school; you helped me afford my groceries when I could barely pay my hospital bills. You kicked my ass into shape, cleaning me of the pain meds when I no longer needed to guzzle them like Pez. You were the one who told me I could make something out of myself—out of my writing—and even then, all those times you praised me and said I was worth something and I still didn’t listen to … didn’t really _believe_ I could—” Levi stopped, despite himself, wanting to fight past the knowing prick at the back of his eyes. He dared not go there, unwilling to feel release. Still, even now, he felt he didn’t deserve the relief.

Besides, he barely scratched the surface of the beauty that is Hange.

“Tonight is your night, too.” He finally stated, swallowing past the lump in his throat as best he could. “It’s just as much yours as it is mine because you have always _always_ been there. Even when I couldn’t return the favor, when I was unable to tell you how wonderful and beautiful and smart and capable you were— _are_ —just because my head was so far up my ass I couldn’t be the rock you needed … because you were too busy being my anchor, my salvation …” Hange was perhaps the one person Levi did not hide from. Even if he tried, she still saw past his stony exterior, screamed for him to react, begged for it, in fact. God, he knew that influx of breath he’d just taken was one just barely keeping him from the edge of himself, threatening his composure. “I can’t possibly repay that; not any of it. I will _never_ be able to tell you enough that you fucking saved me.”

He appreciated her silence, how she let the two of them feel the moment that followed instead of directly responding.  
  
“Come on,” she held out her arm, asking him to hook with her at the elbow, “Let’s go.”

 

**[x]**

Levi had all but given up on even the idea of publishing, the dream one rooted deeply in his young adulthood. So imagine his surprise when Hange had approached him about a small short he’d written—a bit drunkenly, he might add—and left printed out on his Mac, saying she’d handed it off to a good friend of hers who was interested in meeting with him further about “possibilities”. That had been Hange’s words to Levi, what she said he had said: _possibilities._  

It had been a 700-word garble about a green-eyed soldier who flew amongst the skies, fighting in search of freedom.  
  
He’d never thought much of anything would come from it, taking the meeting as a courtesy to his friend for going out of her way to push him in the direction of something semi-productive. That had been around six months after he had moved back in with Zoe, and he’d been a piss poor excuse of a man, falling back into old habits and worrying the holy hell out of her. She didn’t deserve it, none of it. He’d felt he owed her the illusion of trying.

It had been more than a surprise for Langnar House Publishing to offer him a contract, asking him for one book. If that went well, they’d consider a series. The pay was worth it; the flat-fee check he’d get from the book alone was enough to convince him whether or not it turned out to be a shitty seller. It received a decent, _fair_ amount of prints and was distributed in the typical big brand stores and trickled down from there. 

It had not been a shitty seller.

Two-and-a-half years later and Levi was releasing the third book of an intended seven book series titled _The Wings of Freedom_. Tonight was a combined event, one where he would be presenting at Sina University about his creative writing and literature courses, as well as a book signing. He had a release party the following week and subsequent book tour; his life always became loud in these moments. A cluster fuck of … fuckiness? He wasn’t sure there was a name for it. Hectic. Tiring. Elation. There was a severe mix of contrasting words he could use to describe the feeling.

Levi had never been one to be too happy for or proud of himself, always waiting at the edge of his seat for the other shoe to drop. Good things may happen to him, but they didn’t happen to him for long.  
  
So before he walked out on stage, he took his typical ceremonious sigh, readying himself for that impending proverbial shoe.  
  
It was always surreal, seeing people stand at microphones the techs had set up for them to speak into and holding his book in their hands, possessively so. Like it was their most prized possession. Important. Sacred. Levi wasn’t sure whether or not that was ever his ego speaking, but he remembered the feeling from when he was younger and even within recent years; finding an author or a story who combined words like they were a goddamn dream weaver was like a drug, enticing. There had been many nights where Levi failed to sleep, clutching a book he’d devoured in one sitting tightly to his chest, afraid to let go of the life he’d just lived. It was passion incarnate. An experience not easily understood, nor could properly be described.  
  
He received the typical onslaught of questions, people asking him if he ever considered teaching his own books in his class, whom his favorite author was to read and teach, or if they were one in the same; they asked him his approach to teaching and writing. They asked him many, many things. And he always tried to make it a point to wait until the last person was finished, and then he would go outside and sign. So he waited until every last person had their say, or until he knew none of them would ever get out of there and said he would see them at the table.  
  
It was his first time speaking at Sina University, despite the fact he taught there. He decided to do it because they asked him and that was all; it was actually normal for him to speak at universities on his book tour. Getting the call and being asked to do the event wasn’t much of an inconvenience, considering it was booked about four months in advance and the college decided to pair it alongside with a book signing he was already committed to at the Rose Theatre and Book Store.

Hange sat next to next to him, watching him rub his tired eyes and lay his jacket on the back of his chair.  
  
“Turn around,” she chided.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Go on, I don’t bite.”  
  
That got her a pulse of his brow, “If ever there were a lie to leave your mouth.”  
  
Sitting in a damn fold out chair, she somehow managed to look frightening, hands on her hips with her bottom lip puffed out.  
  
“Do as I say and you’ll enjoy it.”

He had a good five minutes before anyone would cross into the threshold, asking them to sign and personalize their pages. In another words, Levi did as he was told.  
  
“Oh, good God.” He melted into her touch, leaning into her fingers and palms without a second thought.  
  
“You’ve been hunched over a keyboard for a week straight.” She took that moment to illicit a small yelp from him, catching a knot and kneading it with an expert amount of pressure and force. “I’ve always found massages strange. Not the act so much as the sounds that come out of our mouths are so near that of sexual pleasure it’s almost disconcerting.”  
  
Levi answered her with moan of pleasure, decidedly ignoring the weird and instead spoke, “Lower.” He laid into the table, throwing her a thumbs up as she walked her fingers down his shoulder blades and into his ribs, finally making it to the small of his low back. “Sweet Jesus.”  
  
“He weeps when these hands work, Levi, he weeps.” She continued on like that, not complaining that Levi asked her to keep it up.  
  
“Why do you take such good care of me?” He grumbled into the crook of his arm, his teeth biting his lower lip as she worked out a particularly sore spot. 

“You do buy me pretty things,” she joked, probably doing her godforsaken eyebrow waggle even though Levi couldn’t see (he was pretty sure he felt them though, wiggling and ever near). “You know, you have dog hair all over you?”  
  
“I swear, Hange, it doesn’t matter how much I vacuum or sweep that apartment, and it sure as hell makes no difference about how persistent I am in lint rolling my clothes, because that pug will be the death of me.” 

“And yet, it’s almost pitiful how much you love her.”

“I do not,” he grumbled, raising his head and protesting the idea.

She was already shaking her head, now just casually rubbing her hands up and down his back, relaxing him even further.  
  
“You couldn’t even keep your promise—to yourself, I might add, because I could have not have cared less—about kenneling her!”  
  
“She barked! _Ceaselessly_.”  
  
“You wanted her to sleep with you.”

Once Levi had money to spend he’d done the responsible thing and put it in the bank; but he also found himself, for the first time in his life, with a disposable income that allowed him to spend with an almost reckless abandon. So he also did the irresponsible thing. He bought shit. He’d gotten a new computer, a shitload of books he’d always wanted to read or wanted in print, he bought a DSLR—and then he just got bored. He found himself kicking around the apartment on his days off, writing and smoking and eating and watching Maury. So when it came back around to being one of those days again, he contemplated using his multi-thousand dollar camera to take dick-pics and show to Hange later or go on a walk and find something to do.  
  
Levi couldn’t help it if his feet landed him in the middle of the Southern Sina Pug Rescue. He couldn’t help it if he saw an 8-week old black ball of fur that was the last of her abandoned litter. He couldn’t help throwing as much money as it took for the shelter to come over and inspect his home that very second and considering an old resume of his in order to see if he was a fit owner for the pup. He couldn’t help how he felt when she burrowed into his coat when he picked her up, her nose sniffling as she stilled in his palm, warm and content.  
  
She went with him to Petco that afternoon, fitting inside his oversized front coat pocket, chewing on the fabric. Hange met her when she got home from work.  
  
They named her Shiro.  
  
“She’s warm,” he admitted, no longer caring to be embarrassed about it.

Hange sounded a teasing click of her tongue, mhmming her victory.

“Ope, here they come.” She leaned in, giving him a hug. “Go get ‘em, rockstar.”

He hugged her tightly back, and before letting go, “I know it’s late, but dinner afterwards?”  
  
“And here I thought you got me all dressed up for nothing!” More teasing as she let go, giving him a wink before going to stand by Isle, Levi’s editor.  
  
It was a long line, one that would probably keep him here until seven or eight. He recognized a lot his students, people from the audience, and those who had asked him questions. Then there were others, their identities lost unto him and faces unrecognizable—either they had been sitting too far back in the auditorium or they had just arrived.  
  
Levi signed and personalized and answered more questions. He didn’t care if he was asked to sign more than one thing, he was always asked nicely enough he didn’t feel obligated to care; he teased what he thought would happen, characters he’d like to see make it out alive, and he even entertained a young lady who asked a self-admitted “silly question” about whether or not he’d like to see his books be made into movies.

Mostly, he kept his head down, asking them small questions in return and thanking them for coming. 

“Hi Mr. Ackerman.”  
  
A very worn, very tattered first copy of Levi’s first _Wings of Freedom: To You, In 2000 Years_ was sat in front of him.

Levi found his attention focused on the book, fascinated with the wear and tear that settled into a piece of his work. The top most corner on the front cover was fraying, the thicker stock paper coming apart; the binding was a mess of white, the title barely visible and chopped up to bits due to the book having been opened and closed and bent every which way when being read; there were tabbed pages all throughout, Levi even saw whole sentences and paragraphs highlighted, certain passages starred and comments littering the pages.

He cleared his throat, trying to be as gentle as possible with the book, “Anything you’d like me to sign?”  
  
“May I ask a question first? About your novel.”  
  
Levi nodded, somehow still mesmerized by the character of the book before him. He knew how many people would look at it and shake their heads, quickly passing it by and ascribing the seemingly dismal state towards irresponsibility or a lack care and respect in books (or things in general). Levi knew he would more than likely be astonished at the number of others who could look at this and not see the beauty of it.

His mind shifted to the person who marked this so wholly theirs. He was unable to stop himself, flipping through the pages and looking at the handwriting and folded edges of the pages, knowing the person hadn’t quite yet gotten to their question because they were watching him instead. Still, despite the way he was sure he could the way they observed him, he didn’t leave the sight of it for anything.  
  
“Please,” Levi urged eagerly.  
  
“The main protagonist of your books, was he based off of anyone particular?”  
  
The question was unexpected, almost boring. But … Levi thought about it, kind of shocked to know he’d never been asked that question before. He thought of the character his story focused on: how he always ran a hand through a head full of brown, messy, unkempt hair; his tired body full of hard muscle; scarred skin from bite marks that refused to heal; and those wide, bright green eyes that tried to sleep at night. Humanity’s Hope.  
  
Sure, Levi had an idea of where he’d come from.  
  
He damned the small fluster quickening his blood, jittering his fingertips; he no longer waited to hear if the person wanted any specific personalization.

“No one in particular,” Levi stated, flipping to his favorite chapter and leaving his signature there and an arrow and circle around the number of the chapter and its title. For some reason, he figured that, at the very least, his version and story behind the tattered paperback deserved to have that much within it. 

“Huh, strange.” The male cracked, somehow not sounding convinced. “The eyes always seemed familiar.”

Levi tried to stop himself, already looking up to hand the book back to the stranger before him. He’d wanted to see the person who catalogued every inch of his book, took notes on his words, and creased the damn thing into oblivion. Hearing the words and listening to a humored, knowing retort, Levi felt a pull in his gut and a lift to his brow.

Somehow, he knew.

“Thanks, Mr. Ackerman.” 

He held out his hand, which Levi dumbly took; but he didn’t linger, in no way prolonging their touch or hinting that there was something more behind him wanting to shake his hand.

Everything was exactly the same and drastically different. His hands felt larger than before and his voice was undeniably deeper; his chest was broader, and his skin was just as dipped in caramel. Levi knew that if he stood to meet him, he’d be even taller than before, practically towering above him. Glasses hid his face and distorted that deep expanse of sea Levi so badly wanted to see, to fall under, to drown in.

He knew there was still a line of waiting people, but he had to try for something.  
  
“Were you in the audience?” 

“No.” He shook his head, a smooth, bold voice released from those lips. And that was all he offered before reaching for his copy, lacing his grip about the binding of the book, taking a glimpse back at the people behind him. “It was a pleasure to finally meet you.”  
  
Levi watched him leave, one hand holding the book to his side and the other in his pants pocket. The long chocolate brown tendrils of hair were gone, a shorter haircut replacing it; his voice had been deeper, confident—professional; his steps were meaningful; his posture assured.  
  
It wasn’t an awareness that took a startling amount of acuity for Levi to process, but it was somehow shocking nonetheless.  
  
He’d had Eren Jaeger when he was only a boy.  
  
So who was he now that he was a man?

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooo .... I did that.
> 
> And blah. I'll probably go back through with a fine tooth comb and try and figure out another word for book because if felt like I was beating a dead horse writing that. But I wanted post. Oh ignore me just my authorly ramblings.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me a little longer than I wanted to! I've been going over it a few times and unsure of whether or not to post it. I seriously had a crisis of the mind--is this good enough? Should I write something else and--blahblahblahblah. I had to go away from it for a little bit, in another words. When I came back to reread it and see what I thought of it after a few days away from it, I realized I really liked the direction it was taking this fic.
> 
> You guys have been so incredible with this story, by the way! It's really made my day reading what you all have said to me. Please know I appreciate it and you are the reason I decided to continue this. 
> 
> Again, Cailyn, I hope this is meeting your expectations and is a wonderful gift for you, my pickle.
> 
> OH, and, as always. I am ze ackerbooty on the Tumblrz. Stop by and say hi. Talk to me, tell me what you like. It can be about the story or about you or about me. It's all good.
> 
> Enjoy!

“What?”  
  
Levi hated that stare. It was a judgmental one. He watched her, and waited. She inevitability answered with her open mouth and moved it, exhaling as she continued like that four more times. It baffled him that she knew how to speak.  
  
“Shiro, I don’t want to hear it. You’re getting food out of the deal, aren’t you?”  
  
He was pretty certain it also threw him for a loop that he actually talked with his pug, but, hey, that was life.

He turned from the fridge, a jug of milk in his hands. He wanted cereal. And sugar. For some reason he inhaled Chex like it was going out of style, though; so he always had to drop a pound of the stuff on top of it because he didn’t want Captain Crunch like a normal person. 

He heard her continue opening and closing her mouth behind him as he also _opened_ and _closed_ drawers and cabinets, poured the cereal in his bowl, grabbed a beer for good measure as he placed the milk back in its place, and still listened to her rattle on as he plopped on the couch and clicked on the TV.  
  
She jumped up along with Levi, resting beside him and staring. Waiting for when he’d pluck his fingers in his bowl and hand her piece after piece, letting her eat alongside him. 

“I swear,” he mumbled, handing her some before he even had a bite. “For no one else, you know that? Not even Zo.”

It was routine that she answer him by a very wet sneeze into his bowl and onto his hand. Only then did he take a spoonful into his mouth.

Two and half years ago, that shit would not have flown.

Work was going to be a bitch tomorrow— _today_ —when he went in. Though he was getting ready to leave on tour, he was doing a week and half summer intersession for a creative writing course. He wasn’t sure if he was looking forward to it.

Looking over at Shiro, he reached out his hand to rub her ear, smiling as her eyes shut in the pure bliss and resignation of being rubbed.

“What do you think?”  
  
It was 3 A.M. and not at all abnormal for him to be up, pacing the apartment in absence of sleep. She always padded next to him, loyal and unwavering—even if Levi was sure it was because she hoped for the scraps that could come from his combination of lesser boredom and more serious insomnia.  
  
Hange was right to say he loved the little shit. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t let anything or anyone lick the leftover food from his dishes like he let Shiro. He felt the welling of old tendencies leave a bad taste in his mouth, drying his throat as he resisted the urge to coil away from her in disgust, he scrunched his nose—and this is when she sneezed once again.  
  
Levi smiled. This was ok. 

Then, a loud noise sounded from Hange’s room, which didn’t prompt him to move at all; the normalcy of it was almost what was alarming in the first place.  
  
“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Like a mantra, over and over again it fled her mouth as Levi heard her run from her room at the top of the hallway, all the way to the end towards his. So she was looking for him? He briefly considered whether or not that was a good thing. 

“Hang!” He announced from the living room, setting the finished bowl on the table he had to tell Shiro a firm no when it came to licking up what milk was left. “Maybe you’ll get a Dentastick or some shit before I try and go to bed,” he mumbled, listening to the stomps of his ruffled friend come closer.

  
“Levi!”  
  
“Yes, Zoe?” He kicked his feet up, patting the seat on the other side of him and Shiro, beer in hand and the Rugrats on TV. “Come here before you have a seizure.”

She listened, her hair loose and face still a little red from where she’d washed her face. They still needed to turn on the air conditioning—stubborn, self-sacrificing money-grubbers that they were—so neither of them were wearing very much clothing.  
  
It wasn’t so bad that Shiro was panting, however; that was most definitely a cue that they needed to unclench. Right now, open windows sufficed, which could easily be refuted considering Hange was in her bra and panties and Levi wore what barely passed as boxers. 

Shiro hopped across Levi, not caring that she walked with the purpose of a goddamned autobot, and came to a stop on Hange’s lap.  
  
“Looks like she wants to sleep with her Mama tonight.” 

“You’re kidding?” Her voice was still sleepy as she began to pet her hand up and down Shiro’s body. “You just didn’t let her have the end of your bowl of cereal!” She turned to look at the television, letting herself become distracted by the cartoon. “You didn’t use the beer as milk again, did you?” Her questioning look was almost as bad as the connotations she let saturate that otherwise innocent question. 

“Were you going to climb into my bed?” Levi asked, knowing it to be as hard-hitting a question as the one she just asked him.  
  
Hearing Hange sigh was something that always sat wrong with him, as if it were a sound too foreign and unwanted to be _right_ coming from her mouth. But they were best friends for a reason. Neither one of them was about to put up with the other’s crap. Yes, they would hold, coddle, and love each other until their dying breath, but no way in hell would either Hange or Levi let the other ever get away with making themselves feel like they were nothing.  
  
“I mean, come on, Zo,” despite the heat, he rested his hand on top of hers, “Beer and cereal? Together? Doth I look liketh a man whoeth just been dumpethed?”

“Oh my _God_ ,” she smacked her hands to her face, laughing at his bullshit. “Fine, I’m sorry. And you’re right, I was going to come and get into bed with you, but not because I have no idea anymore if Mike wants to try and work things out or if Moblit will—”  
  
The way she couldn’t continue, as if she’d suddenly taken on too much weight and drowning in the water, was, again, not normal and it made Levi’s jaw clench.  
  
“I forgot to remind you about the internship.” She skipped over the serious stuff—the relationship _stuff_ —and got down to it.

“My what?” He also found the words ‘oh shit’ to be appropriate.

“Yeah, Levi. You promised the university you would take on a few interns for the duration of your tour. Remember we even worked it out? You have three spots—one for the road and all shows—kind of like your little bitch baby for five weeks—the second is to tag along with Isle at the publishing house, and the third is for Mike.”  
  
“I haven’t necessarily forgotten.” Oh, but he had. Of course, he had! “ _Fuck_.” He resigned himself to admitting it through a particularly favorite swear word of his, sinking back into the couch further than before. “You’ll be with me tomorrow then?”  
  
“Yes. I’m the one reading their submissions, after all!” At least the woman sounded a bit more cheery with that.  
  
“So,” she casually continued, “that leaves the twelve students with three manuscripts—I sent them the fourth packet—and their own piece to write. You take care of the interviews,” she repeated, “and I take care of reading their stories.”  
  
“Sounds good to me.” He tipped his beer to his mouth, grimacing at the taste. “Damn, my beer is warm.”

 

 

[x]

 

 

**Eren: POV**

Eren wasn’t really sure what he was doing anymore. It felt like coasting.  
  
It’d taken him awhile to figure out he didn’t care. That alone killed him a little. Working and working and working to preserve his father’s legacy and he didn’t think he wanted it anymore.  
  
So why was he fighting for it?  
  
He’d fucked up. Mikasa had been telling him for ages to get it together, to not just be a damn man, but a responsible human being. For everything he was worth, when he received the summons that his board was going to challenge him for full legal rights over Jaeger Industries, he knew he would never let that happen.  
  
He’d clean up his act. He’d sober up. He’d stop fucking around, partying, screwing, and spending. 

Eren was going to go back to school and not drop out this time around. He’d told the board as much, which seemed to relax their shoulders; made them at least put on the _appearance_ of wanting to give him time. When he’d told Mikasa that, she’d been so happy. Hugging him and kissing him for the first time in almost a year and a half; and it had hurt, because he realized just how much he’d alienated the one person he knew would never leave him into thinking he was a piece of shit. 

“Eren!” Mikasa snapped him out of his reverie, tapping his shoulder with an excited hop to her step. He was in his office, high above the city below and looking out the window, lost in his thoughts, unable to come up with a viable conclusion to how everything ended.  
  
“What’s up?”  
  
The smile on her face was beautiful and cheeky, she looked excited.  
  
“You know how you said you’d enrolled in the university?”

“I plan on going back in the fall, yes.” It was all he had to say regarding the subject, but he felt himself squint in suspicion nonetheless.  
  
“Well—and please don’t hate me and tack the annoying bitch sister title onto me, but—” She held up a small stack of papers, holding them out for her brother to take. “I used Armin to hack into your uni email and sign you up for a course.”  
  
He scanned over the papers, seeing it was a syllabus at about the same time he heard “hack into your uni email”.  
  
“You used Armin for this?” Eren couldn’t help but sound a little incredulous. He wasn’t even exasperated or annoyed by the fact that Mikasa had went out of her way to do this. It was more a punch in the gut to comprehend that it was the first time, and her own way, of feeling comfortable enough around him in a long while. As well, it was her making an effort. To swallow past the lump in his throat at that had been quite difficult.

“Eren, you constructed a freakin’ algorithm that makes passwords to protect government agency accounts and sanctioned weapons projects. Don’t mind me if I didn’t expect you to use ‘mango’ as your firewall.” 

“ _Mango_.” He felt the need to say it out loud, a playful lilt hinting his words, teasing her.  
  
“Fucking mango!” Mikasa shouted dramatically, sitting in a chair that sat on the other side of Eren’s desk.

“You have to admit, no one would ever think to type that in.”

Eren sat, feeling his sister watch him as he began to read the expectations of the class out loud. “A week and a half. 2 ½ to 3 hours each day— _damn_.”  
  
“You want to convince the board you’re serious, right? It’s only a week and a half, Ere.”

She wasn’t being condescending or mean or petulant. Nonetheless, he ignored her. 

“Eren.”  
  
“I don’t know,” he sighed.

“I know.” She whispered the words, crossing her arms over her chest. For the both of them it sounded like such a small admission. They knew better, though. 

“Why’d you pick this class?” Always best to deflect and focus on anything that wasn’t that.

“Armin found it!” Her frown gave way to another smile and excitement. Good, good, she was happy to explain. “It’s an English class—creative writing, I think—and you didn’t _necessarily_ have the permission number or correct amount of course credits to sufficently enter the course, but, again, Armin.”

They both shrugged with a NBD smacked across their foreheads, needing no other explanation in way of the role Armin had played in getting Eren in.  
  
“And,” somehow that smile grew, showing all her teeth and crinkling her eyes. Like the best part was about to come. “It’s a class being offered by your favorite author.”

Eren hoped Mikasa hadn’t noticed the way he fisted the syllabus in his hand. A grimace paired with wide, you-have-got-to-be-joking-me eyes at what he tried to figure this turn of events to be.  
  
Maybe he could play it off as enthusiasm, the pull and wrench of his stomach nothing more than the sickness of anticipation and not the groaning resignation of bemoaning your luck.

He tried to play the responsibilities card, “Mika, you know I have obligations to—” 

“Nope. I already spoke with Hannes.”

“You know,” he repeated, “how busy I am. People expect _me_ to personally be there. To introduce them to the product—fuck, I’m supposed to fly out to a military base this weekend.”

“Hannes is going to take care of it.”  
  
“That will never work.” She knew as much.

“And so will I.”

The ego of mentioning people wanting and expecting him to be there was nonexistent. He and Mikasa were taught from a young age what was required of them and that their name was important and they represented something bigger than themselves in upholding the standard of it.  
  
Eren was the heir of the company, the genius son of Grisha Jaeger. From the moment he was born, Eren was chosen to be the heir of his father’s company; the duty falling on his shoulders. He’d been a part of the circus a lot longer than Mikasa, but she’d never let him go it alone.

_“Wherever you go, I go. Whatever you feel, I feel. I’m here for you, Eren. I love you.”_

She’d said those words while he was crying his eyes out, her hands holding his face, and her lips kissing his cheeks.

Another story for another time, however. 

Eren hadn’t realized he was chewing on his pencil, the taste of the wood leaving an awful bite of flavor in his mouth; it was instantaneous how his gaze pulled over towards his paperback copy of _WOF_. 

_She didn’t._

“Mikasa, you didn’t.” It rectified nothing for him to mimic his thought out loud. 

She slapped her hands in a praying motion, “Please go. I’ve watched you pick that damn book to pieces and for years now it seems … it’s just I’ve never seen you so passionate about anything. That’s how you’ve always been with books and writing, but—” His sister stopped, a pained expression paling her eyes. “This,” she threw her hands out, indicating his office and the high rise they were currently working in, “was all you were ever allowed to pursue. It was your destiny to become the head of this company and I see how much it kills you. But Eren, you are so intelligent—”  
  
“Mika.” Eren felt his breath catch, calling his sister by a nickname he hadn’t used in about as long as she hadn’t hugged him.  
  
It made him clutch at the twinge in his chest, how awful her affection made him feel. She saw he was putting in an effort, but she had never _not_ recognized his pain. These past few years he had fucked up. Big time. He was almost 22 years old and he’d left his family behind in order to feel like he had some goddamn breathing room. Like he was free.

“When does it start?”

“Oh. About that.”

He groaned, hitting his head repeatedly with the rolled up syllabus. 

“I already called the driver. No worries. And for Godssakes, put on some normal clothes.”

“Normal?” 

“Street clothes? Jeans. A t-shirt. Not a two-thousand dollar suit that shows the other students in the class you pay for your tuition out of pocket without a problem.”

“Fuckin’ _oh-kay_.”

“Tell me how it goes!” She got up to leave, stopping at his door before walking out. “Didn’t you go to his book signing the other day?”  
  
“Thursday.” 

“Did you have a good time?”  
  
Eren did well to not entertain his thoughts of the brief meeting with more than a quick nod to Mikasa.  
  
“I’m glad.”

“See you tonight,” he remarked it without much thought, only noticing is sister halt again at his words.  
  
“Tonight?”

“I want to take you out.” 

Neither of them had gone out, just the two of them, in too long. _Probably not since Dad died_ , Eren thought. The countless dinner parties, networking meetings, galas, and the annual Jaeger Industries Exposition (which had a whole slew of parties and gathers in and of itself) did not count, showing up being an obligation and smiling for the camera with one another nothing more than a show of solidarity to the public and their competitors. 

He felt he needed to change that. Like everything else in his life, he had to be better with his sister. Eren wanted to hold her hand again. He wanted to feel the love she provided—a love he hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

“Ok,” she answered, quietly, giving a small wave of her fingers as she finally left his big, empty office.

His eyes danced back to the book sitting on his desk. Looking back at his computer, the all too familiar pages and pages of legal banter and designs for new products filled the screen.

He decided to flip to chapter seven while waiting for his ride.

“Why did you sign this page?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. I love hearing from you. Do you guys have any idea where this could be headed? Any idea about what you would do?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm not quite sure if this is a oneshot yet, I'm waiting for the verdict from Cailyn. She decides ultimately, but if you have any opinions, sure, why not, I will listen! Thanks for making it this for, seriously, it means a lot. 
> 
> This story had a lot more showing rather than telling. Concerning some of the information about Levi, I wanted the reader to infer on their own and mull the information over and come to their personal deduction of what the given bits could possibly mean; Eren is a little bit more straight forward in who he is/what he does. But he is still just Grisha Jaeger's son as of yet, there is still a lot to be said and I hope I did well in that regard. 
> 
> Until next time! 
> 
> -Lyndz


End file.
